Forbidden
by TorchwoodFallenAngel
Summary: They're ying and yang now, light and dark, good and bad...but who says that means they can't still be in love? AU. Wincest


Hey, everyone! Sorry I've been away for a bit but I'm back today with two new stories! Thank you sudden plot bunnies and best friends!

This story was based on a conversation that my friend and I had where neither of us could understand why the hell Sam was the demon and Dean the angel! In our world it always seems to go younger one, innocent one - good one. Older one, more corrupt on - bad. I mean, hello! Studious, follows the rules Sammy and rebel in leather and beast-of-a-car Dean! Anyway...I hope you enjoy!

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><p>He still visits, although it's not allowed. He doesn't care and neither does the one he visits. He comes in the dead of night, the exact same time every single time. The one he visits is always asleep, slumbering peacefully. That way the one he visits can't be blamed. He climbs in through the window, stepping softly over the minute break in the salt line, so small even angels can't sense it. But he can. He drops gently to the floor, hands leaving a smudge of yellow sulphur where they touch the windowsill.<p>

His steps are so gentle, so light, that they don't even leave an imprint on the trashy carpet.

He walks over to the bed and stares. He gazes in pure, unadulterated love at the one he visits, sleeping like an angel. An angel. He chuckles at that. Because the man asleep in the crappy, ugly, filthy motel bed really is an angel. Heaven chose him, Hell chose the one watching him. They can't avoid it any more. They were torn apart and turned, made into an angel and a demon. A pure, innocent being and a filthy, sinful monster. Their love was twisted and warped, made to be the most disgusting sin since the Temptation.

He jumps onto the bed, crouching low over his love. There is a whimper from the sleeping man, as if he senses the demonic presence looming over him and he starts to wake, stirring delectably.

"Mmm…Wha-"

He is cut off by a kiss pressed to his lips, warm and dangerous and full of love. A burning, forbidden sort of love, the type only found by those who truly love their lovers. His touch leaves smudges of yellow on the cool tan skin.

"Hush my love. Don't say anything. They might hear us."

The demon is pulled closer by the angel, pressing the hellfire warmed body flush against the heaven-cool one, separated only by the thin sheets. The angel moans in delight as the demon's talons easily rip the thin cotton to shreds, exposing the smooth, unblemished chest to the roving, burning eyes. Cool hands blindly clutch at warm bare skin; the demon is already naked, eager to get to his love.

There is nothing holding them back. There are no barriers, no hesitation. Not any more. Their forms mean nothing to them. They are lovers and brothers and soul mates, nothing less, even being as they are. Their passion reaches a crescendo, furious and full of fire. They are one, a swirling, passionate whirlwind of love and lust and Grace and Sin. They are two hearts as one, two souls, one passion. Ying and Yang. Light and Dark. Heaven and Hell. Beautiful and dangerous, like fire, their love is.

Their climax is as intense as it should be, after all, they shouldn't even be doing this. And, just for a second, they are equals again, almost human. The one who visits has to leave quickly, though, they are spared nothing. This is already dangerous enough, if they were to be caught…

The one he visits lies back in bed, pulling the now-complete sheets over him and the one who visits pulls back, quickly leaning down to pick up his discarded jacket. They keep eye contact the whole time, neither one willing to look away, just in case it becomes a dream, a beautiful, horrible, blissful, agonising dream. The demon backs away, edging slowly towards the window, always aware of that damning salt line. He reaches the window sill, stepping delicately over the only thing that was supposed to keep his loved one safe but still lets him in, and grabs hold of it, sulphur smudging all over the wood, smearing like paint. He is almost shaking. It pains him to leave, just as it pains his lover to let him leave. Agonisingly slowly but still too fast, he clambers up, still drinking the beauty that is his brother. There is a shout and both of their gazes dart towards the door. It is time for him to go.

"I love you. I'll always love you. I'll wait a million years for you, know that. They can do whatever they like, but they'll never stop this, never change what we have. I'll be back, just you wait."

And then he is gone. His lover curls up in bed with only the phantom warmth of his brother's hands and the faint aroma of sulphur to ward away the pain.

"I know Dean. I know."

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><p>Right-o. Hope you enjoyed that! And, like always, if you did, please review! Thank you!<p> 


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